Building Bridges With Scones
by FrostForever
Summary: England tries to figure out how he can strengthen his relationship between himself and his newest territory...Vietnam. Requested by: ChocoKoko
1. Building Bridges With Scones

The two sat awkwardly on the opposite sides of the room. The Vietnamese girl was playing with her hair, braiding it and unbraiding it in silence. England was watching her. What was he going to do with her? He continued to watch his newly acquired colony. He had to do something…he couldn't always be this awkward around her. Bridges needed to be built and roads paved between the two. They needed to become friends at the least, it would ensure that Vietnam wouldn't try to disband from the empire….but he barely knew anything about this girl! What was he going to do? England sighed and got up from his seat. Vietnam's chocolate colored eyes watched him get up as her fingers paused in their work.

"I'm…..are you hungry?" England asked the girl.

"Vâng," she said in the language she had fought hard to keep over the centuries.

England sighed, "In English, please…."

"Yes," she said once again. The girl had no trouble comprehending the English language. No doubt she was better at writing it then speaking it, but she was very smart and skilled with it all the same. She still had a slight Vietnamese accent whenever she spoke, but England hoped that it would soon go away and turn to a proper British accent. She didn't speak much. Vietnam had been living in England's house a few weeks now, and besides when he heard her tutor teaching her English, he had barely ever heard a word out of the quiet girl.

"Would you like a scone?" England asked her.

The girl looked at him questionably.

"A scone," the Brit repeated, "It looks like a biscuit…and…"

She nodded, "Can I help you?"

"You want to…help cook? With me?" England asked surprised, "You understand I could teach you a great deal of things that China didn't teach you."

"China didn't teach me to cook," Vietnam said matter-of-factly, "That is why I wish to learn."

She wanted to learn how to cook…from him? …of course he would teach her! He would be the best cooking teacher ever! Take that, Frog! His cooking was world famous after all, and what would be the best place to start than with his famous scones? Perfect! This was just the perfect way to lay the woodwork in their relationship!

"Alright! This could be fun," England said with a smile, "Come along with me, then."

England led the teenage-looking girl into the large spacious kitchen. The place was usually full of cooks and servants, but it was not yet time for dinner and the king and queen were currently away in the countryside. They had taken with them the majority of the cooking staff. England saw the girl's face light up with joy at the sight. She looked very eager to learn about this craft and in return he was eager to teach her.

"Now," he said, "the first thing we need to do is heat up the oven…I can do that." England went over to the oven and carefully started a fire inside. He then got out a pan and bowl along with the principal ingredients, namely, flour, cream, and salt, along with a few other ingredients. He put those ingredients into the bowl as Vietnam watched. Next, England added butter, sugar, and milk into the mixture. England was so caught up in his work that he had just remembered the Vietnamese girl standing next to him.

Once he had finished putting the milk in he turned to the girl and asked, "Would you like to have a go at it now?"

"Have a go?" Vietnam asked questioning the phrase.

"Yes. Would you like to try?" he asked again with a smile handing her the spoon.

She nodded, "What do I need to do?"

"Just stir it…here…," England said getting behind her and putting a hand on hers as he steadied the bowl with his free hand, "And now, you just continue to move the spoon in a circular fashion as you…stir it. Do you have it now?" She nodded and continued to stir the mixture until England gave her the instruction to stop.

"Good….now we knead the dough," he told her.

"Knead…is that like needle?" she asked him.

England couldn't help but smile at that question and shook his head, "No…it means to…well it's when you...well let me just show you…" He took the mixture out of the bowl, laid it onto the counter and began to knead the dough. After watching him, she felt courageous enough to try it herself.

"May I?" she asked him.

"Of course you may. Thank you for asking so politely it is much appreciated," he said splitting the dough into two, giving her half and then he continuing with his own work, "When you think it's ready you can roll them into small balls….like so." He took off a piece of his dough and showed her the dough ball he had created. She nodded and replicated his action. "Very good," he said with praise, "And now you continue until the rest of your dough have turned into the small balls."

She nodded and the two continued their work in silence. Suddenly a thought popped into England's head and he couldn't help but want to ask her the question, "Are you enjoying yourself here?"

Vietnam nodded, "I think your gardens are lovely…and your cities as well…and I love your food…"

"My food? You really enjoy it?"

She nodded again, "I like the way it tastes. It's unique and special in its own way…of course the adjustment has been hard…"

"Oh really? I thought you were adjusting just fine," he said looking over at her.

"I'm done…," she said.

"Done?" he said a little concerned. Done with living here? With this lifestyle? With-

"These," she said holding up the last of her unfinished scone.

"O-Oh….yes….of course…," he said and looking down he realized that he was done himself, "Allow me…" Vietnam placed her last dough ball next to the others and England glazed them quickly with a brush of milk.

"Why do you do that?" she asked.

"It helps with the flavor," he replied with a smile as he saw Vietnam's eyes seem to soak in the new knowledge. England put each ball of dough on the pan and placed them into the oven. "And now," he said, "We wait."

"How long?" she asked.

"Oh….not long…about ten minutes," he said, "You're a very good student."

"And you are a good teacher," she said in response.

England smiled. Maybe taking care of this colony wouldn't be too bad…she was sweet, nice, playful, mindful of her studies, quiet…and…she seemed to really care for him. That was the trait he liked most about her…oh…and she liked his cooking…that was a plus as well. Who knew that scones could build bridges?


	2. Jealousy, Love, and Lust

Britain walked into his house, tired from getting lectured by his king. He had hoped to come home, grab a cup of tea and a nice scone and relax by the fire as he read his newspaper. Of course Vietnam was in his idea of the perfect evening of relaxation. While he read, she would work on her stitching or any other work her tutor had given her. If she needed any assistance, he would be happy to step in and lend a helping hand.

Britain fancied the thought more than he had expected and was now fantasizing about it as he made his way into the kitchen. Then, he heard a familiar voice and both him and his thoughts paused. He tensed up in anger at the suspicion of who it was. That voice was followed by another familiar one…a younger...feminine voice that was unmistakably…

Vietnam.

England turned and rushed toward the two voices, _Who the hell was speaking to __**his**__ territory!? _ The thought of exactly "who" it was grew stronger as the voices grew louder, giving him a cause to run faster through the hall.

England could hear the familiar male's voice fluttering out of the young girl's room. His pattern of speech and vocabulary obviously confirmed his suspicions. The "who" made a comment toward the girl saying, "Oh, you are so adorable, mon amie! Your 'air is très jolie aussi!"

The Brit stopped in front of the door finding Vietnam sitting on her bed with…France. England's eyes narrowed at the sight of his perverted natural enemy and the sweet obedient seemingly teenage girl together, "France! What the bloody blazes are you doing in MY house!?"

"Oh! Bonjour, l'Anglettere! Tu have such a beautiful territory…and chance you are willing to sell her?" asked the Frenchman hopefully.

England glared and responded with a blunt, "No."

France sighed dramatically, "Zat is too bad! Me and ta fille were enjoying ourselves, isn't zat right?"

Vietnam looked up from the sparkling necklace France had given her upon his abrupt arrival. She didn't really care for it…she never really cared for material things. It was just beautiful, and that was why she had taken interest in the jewelry. She knew she would lose the newly found curiosity with the item soon and gently handed back to France.

France looked at the girl shocked as he tried to hand the necklace back to Vietnam, "Wh-What are you doing, mon ange? Zis is for you…"

The girl shook her head and refused the gift, "I apologize Mr. France, but you cannot buy my friendship with gifts and sweet words."

England smiled. _That's right_, he thought, _She likes it here. She wants to stay with me and there is no way you are going to change that, frog. _And then he realized something…when he was coming into the room, when he thought someone else was in the room with Vietnam…did he…feel a bit of jealousy? No….that was preposterous…or was it? He had grown quiet fond of the girl…and he had hoped that she had become fond of him…but in….that way? No…or…yes? Was it possible that…maybe…just maybe…England love-_ No! _, shouted a little voice in his head_, Get a hold of yourself, Kirkland! This is strictly business…nothing more! Expansion…power…money…not love and especially not lust! Remember that..._ But as the small voice mentioned love and lust, England began to think the matter more and more true.

France looked at the Vietnamese girl surprised, "A-Alright zen…what do you like? I could take you out….just you and me….alo-"

Then England knew for sure. It was jealousy. Swiftly, without a second of thought rage enlaced in his voice he yelled, "NO! Most certainly not! Are you out of your mind, frog!? You will do no such thing! Now leave before I am forced to get Switzerland over here and order him to shoot holes through you!"

France was not amused. In fact, he found the matter intriguing, but he was honestly getting a little bored and he was not blind. He had lost winning over Vietnam today and it would be best not to act desperate, so he stood obediently, "As you wish, l'Anglettere." He turned back to Vietnam, "Do not forget about me, ma petite." With those last words he kissed Vietnam's cheek.

"OUT!," England commanded the Frenchman, jealousy evident on his face. France smiled, content with his work and passed England, leaving the island nation alone with his territory.

England sighed and sat next to the wide-eyed Vietnam. Her hand rested on the spot France had kissed her. She was shocked. It wasn't every day she was…kissed. It was just so….weird. Normally she would have slapped the guy, but she didn't want to make a scene in front of England.

"Are you alright?," England asked worriedly, "He didn't mentally scar you now did he?"

Vietnam was taken back to her senses at the sound of England's voice. She couldn't bring herself to form words yet and instead, quickly shook her head in response.

"Good," England said and soon the beautiful mistake of an awkward silence settled in the atmosphere. The two sat there for a while not knowing what to say to one another. Vietnam, not very talkative in the first place, and England, still going over the feelings he was or had always had for the girl sitting next to him fighting in his head. England couldn't stand thinking about it while next to her and stood, "Well then…I am glad to know you are alright."

Vietnam nodded.

"R-Right….well…," England headed to the door, "Goodbye then."

"…thank you…," Vietnam's rarely heard voice sliced through the air, making England pause. He turned and nodded in response blushing for some unknown reason at those two simple words. Then, he left the girl…or woman…to whatever she would do.

Jealousy.

Love.

Lust.

Whatever it was he was feeling, he wasn't sure. Of course the first one wasn't directly aimed at Vietnam; she had caused it…because…it wasn't that he was jealous about her being around other people that made him jealous. It was just her being around other men…especially that of a more sex personified nature like France...He thought back to France kissing Vietnam's cheek. That moment…now…and when it happened…seemed like the worst moment of his life…the thought of losing her to someone else…was…unbearable. England sighed and sat down, wanting to relax and not question the matter further at least for the rest of the evening. He took a sip of tea and opened the newspaper to the World News section. He read, flipping the pages, every so often nibbling on his scone.


	3. Let This Not Be The Last Time We Meet

"You can be such an idiot sometimes, England," he heard a feminine voice say through the darkness.

When England had first opened his emerald eyes, the first thing he registered was pain. The light burned his green orbs and he shut them as he lifted a hand to his bandaged forehead. His body ached all over and he soon dropped his sore arm. He had paused a moment before opening his eyes again, squinting and gradually widening his eyes as they adjusted to the light. Then, he recognized Vietnam leaning over him. Her straight black hair, neatly tied back with a green bow, her matching silken European dress flowing around her. England's first thought?

_She looks like an angel..._

...and then he heard her speak...

"God damn it, England! You need to be more careful!" Vietnam let out, the most defiant and most words he had ever heard her speak.

Despite the shock, the Englishman couldn't help but hear the worry in her voice. He sat up in his bed, trying to hide any pained looks his face would give. Coolly, as though he didn't realize something was wrong, he said, "Now, now...no need to raise your voice. I daresay, a woman has no need to-"

"A woman!? What does that mean!?," Vietnam exclaimed. Now he had done something wrong...but he couldn't help but ask himself when his little territory had become so outspoken. "I asked you for one thing...one thing since you took me from China...I only told you to be careful..."

Ah. So it was worry he had sensed. She really was a sweet girl now, wasn't she? Calmly, he asked her,"What happened?"

"That pervert, France, knocked you on the head with his hilt," she explained.

Pervert? So she did understand what he was...,"And how is the war effort looking?"

"Terrible...," she said solemnly, "Don't let me be taken by him...please..."

England paused and shook his head, "There's no way in hell that Frog could defeat me. Don't worry, love."

A short silence followed before Vietnam repeated,"Love?"

England's emerald eyes widened a moment.

_Damn._

"It just slipped out," England justified,"It simply means..." He trailed off. What would he say? He loved her? No...it was still much too soon...wasn't it? How long had she been his territory? And how long had he loved her?

"I know what it means...," she said as she stood,"Get some rest. I'm sure your general would like to speak with you in the morning."

"Yes, of course...," England let out a tad awkwardly.

Vietnam nodded and left. England layed down in his bed. The white sheets reflected the sunlight from the window opposite of him. The brown, oak nightstand sat stationary beside him. A black and white picture of Vietnam and him sat facing him. England sighed and looked up at the white ceiling.

"I mustn't lose...I can't lose...," he said aloud to himself as he closed his eyes once more, hoping he would be able to see Vietnam again soon.


End file.
